Reader Insert Stories
by Cannibalistic Skittles
Summary: For those times when you don’t want to read about your favorite NPCs loving others; you want to read about them loving you. Requests open.
1. YouJowan

You/Jowan

You never thought you'd see him again. You thought the Chantry would kill him, 'dispose' of him for what he'd done.

So why were you here now, after everything was supposed to be over and done, after the archdemon was slain and Alistair was on the throne, why were you here, twirling a flower, _musing_ about him?

About Jowan.

"_I—I'm scared, Jowan." The templars had seemed so much bigger then, when you first arrived at the Tower. Always watching, stern and solemn.  
_"_I'll protect you! I'll stay with you always!" He exclaimed, his eyes earnestly searching your face.  
_"_You mean it?"  
_"_Of course! I'd never leave you!"  
_But that was before. Promises made when you were young.

You both grew older, and though you remained best friends, it seemed that was all that you would ever be, much to your chagrin.  
But you did your best to hide your disappointment, and encouraged him instead.  
If things had been different…

So lost in these thought were you that you couldn't hear the footsteps on the stone floor until their owner was near.

And then, there he was.  
His dark hair was a bit longer, messier, and his eyes were weary, but he was still Jowan.

"(Y/N)." You missed that voice.

You stood slowly, hardly believing he was real. The flower fell forgotten on the floor.

You both sort of… fell towards each other, and the next thing you knew, you were in his arms gazing up at him.

He cupped your face in his hands, drawing you nearer to him.

"I…I thought you were dead…" you breathed.  
He gave a rueful smile, "guess I caught a lucky break, then."

Heads slowly move forward and lips tough gently.  
You pull apart a moment later, finding it hard to catch your breath to speak. "I—you never said—"  
"You never showed any…inclination. I assumed…"  
"And I assumed…"  
You stared at Jowan, before letting out a shaky laugh.  
"So…this…we could have been doing this earlier if we had just…told each other?"  
You shook your head, (hair color) hair flying. "It would have been so easy." You mused.  
"And…now that we know…" he began.  
Your laughter dies as you're brought closer.

Lips meet again, stronger and without hesitation, and you can't help but think that this is what you were waiting for.  
And finally, after all the blood, the tears, the loss, you felt…whole.  
Complete.

-=-=  
(A/N) Eh. This one is kind of weak. I'll make another Jowan/Reader Insert. A better one.  
This is first of its kind.  
I'm planning on making one for Alistair, Zevran, Cullen, and maybe Leske.  
Requests are open~  
Jowan belongs to Bioware, in the way of Dragon Age: Origins, but I wish he'd belong to meeeee~


	2. YouZevran

"Fffuuuudge. Why are these robes so _heavy_?" You complained.

It was around noon, you had been walking all day, you had been ambushed be Darkspawn several times today, the only other people you had seen were some whiny travelers that had taken half your supply of gold, and you were _hot_.  
And it was all because of these _robes_.  
Either your cleavage was spilling out of strips of fabric being passed off as clothes, or you were sweltering in five layers.  
Where was the middle ground?

Your inner rant came to an abrupt stop when a shadow fell over you.  
Looking up you were met with the sight of your favorite assassin.  
"If they are causing you trouble, my dear, perhaps you should just…take them off?" He suggested, looking down at you in conjured innocence.

You scowled, in no mood to be swooning.  
"In case you haven't noticed, we're a bit busy fighting off a _Blight_ for your ideas," you snapped at him, even as you felt a traitorous blush rise to you cheeks. Screw you, girlish instincts, screw you all, you mentally snarled.

He simply looked at you, amusement heavy over his features.  
"A bit peevish today, aren't we, my dear Grey Warden?" He quirked one eyebrow up, commenting, "it was only a suggestion."  
At your scowl, he put his hands up in mock surrender, "but I see when I am not wanted."

He retreated, leaving you to your thoughts once again.

Cold, they had told you. Dress warmly, they said.  
You were going to wring their scrawny little necks when you saw them next, you swore darkly, the little liars.  
You really didn't have much experience with outside temperatures, what with being kept in the Tower all your life.[1]

You really didn't have much experience with charming, sweet-talking blonde elves, either.  
Though, you could thank the Maker for that, at least. You didn't think your resolve would have lasted that long if the two of you were kept in that tower…in confined spaces…for a prolonged period of time…

…Andraste's Ashes.  
He's charming you in your _thought_s now.

[1] If your character wasn't a mage…switch out 'Tower' with castle/caverns/forest/Alienage/Dust Town, etc. Either way, your PC really didn't get out much.  
8D Oh, reader, you can try to fight it, but you will give in some day, I promise you that.~  
This is the closest I've gotten to getting Zevran's personality right.  
Though not exactly down pat, I'm rather proud.  
I _love_ his banter. He's just so…cocky, without being insufferable, with just the right amount of seriousness to make him realistic.  
This one's dedicated to Xeora on DeviantArt.


	3. YouCullen

YouxCullen: Warm

He was hesitating; he was always hesitating, around you at least, now more than ever.  
He was… angry. You were supposed to have left, to torment him no longer.  
"Cullen?"  
You stepped forwards. He remained silent. He was a templar, he would not be swayed by temptation, and that's all you could be to him…  
"Cullen… I'm human, Cullen."  
He turned away.  
"I _am._"  
Tears pricked your eyes, born of frustration as well as sadness.  
"How can I prove myself to you…?" You wondered aloud  
Your eyes widened slightly as you were struck by sudden inspiration.

You stepped forwards, heart clenching when he flinched away, desperation in your eyes.  
"If this won't tell you, I'll go." You said quietly, before you moved forwards.

You lay your right hand on his face, turning his head so he was looking at you.

You brought his right hand up, slipping off the cold gauntlet. Ignoring the blush that reddened your face at your action, determined to keep on, you set his hand on the left side of your chest, above your heart. Slowly you placed your left hand on his larger one.  
"Can you feel that? My heartbeat?" You asked.  
He remained silent, looking back at you.  
You let out a frustrated noise before continuing, "I'm _human_, Cullen. I have warmth, I have a heartbeat, I have hopes and dreams and strengths and weaknesses. I'm not an abomination, I'm not a demon, I'm not a soulless entity. I'm just me."

Your eyes searched his face, for something, _anything_ that would show you that this whole thing wasn't a useless battle.  
And he nodded slowly, understanding.

A relieved smile broke out on your face, and you leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "thank you" before your lips met his.

You were human after all.

-.-.-.

.... Or Elvish. *Shot for ruining the mood*  
…And you and Cullen get married and have adorable curly-haired kids, and Cullen doesn't snap and go psycho on unsuspecting mage apprentices. =D How's that for a fixer-upper?  
…This went too fast. DX  
Was this any good? Was he out of character? Reviews are love.


	4. Anders

I got Awakenings. 8D  
I'm not done with it, and I love it, though they say it's really short—I knew this, but I had to get it anyway. (After much debating.)  
Anders. Is. Love. So, so much. Why can't I romance him? D: Someone called it 'ship tease'—that his banters with a female PC are as close to a relationship as it gets.  
…But his approval is at 100 and it's reading it as 'love' and he keeps saying my PC is pretty so I don't care. 8D  
I'll always have fanfiction, right?  
And, uh… on that—needlessly long—note, here is the next chapter…

Distractions

To be honest, you weren't exactly sure why Anders chose to keep his cat in his robes instead of leaving him at the Keep or letting him peek out from the pack.  
Still, you were never one to let an opportunity go to waste.

The problem here was that _you wanted to see the cat_. Maker's breath, _you_ found him in the first place! But ever since you had turned him over to Anders, all you saw was his fuzzy head poking out from between folds in Anders robes, which, while adorable on all counts, meant that there was a certain distance you were expected to keep.

This displeases you.

Andraste's Ashes, you're fighting thugs and darkspawn instead of putting your feet up somewhere and having a long overdue rest. You continue on because that's what you do, and you've accepted that.

But there's a furry, ginger kitten that's always nearby, and you _aren't allowed_ to fawn over it.

This was going to change.

The plan was simple, but required precise timing. All you would have to do was wait until he looked away…

Which turned out to be much more difficult than you had thought.

He was proving less easily distracted than you would have guessed, and never let down his guard for more than a few seconds.

This would never do. You frowned, and then as a plan started to formulate, a slow smile replaced that.

Time for plan b, then…

You began walking closer to the mage, until you were side by side. He seemed a bit surprised, but said nothing, and you continued in comfortable silence. You used the time to think out what you were going to say. You've got it rehearsed by the time its called for a rest.

Before he can sit, however, you motion for him to stop and stand in front of him.

"Here…" you murmur, and place a hand on his chest to steady yourself as you reach up to gently yank on his ponytail. You took a few moments to 'fix' his hair, brushing errant strands from his eyes and occasionally tugging his earring as he stood motionless.

Finally you step away with a satisfied smile, and a "there" before walking off.

It took him a moment to realize that something was missing.

And by then, you and Ser Pounce-a-Lot were out of sight.


	5. Leske

Yes

In all the years you'd known him, there was one question he continued to ask.  
He'd stop, scratch his head and ask, "hey, do you think me and Rica would ever…"

The first time he'd asked, you'd been floored.  
"You'n Rica? I dunno… maybe."  
He'd seemed pleased the rest of the afternoon.  
_1_  
The second time he'd asked, you knew him better, though he still thought of you as "Rica's sister" sometimes.  
You shrug. "Maybe," and he pesters you until you push him and the two of you end up wrestling in the dust.  
_2_  
The third time he'd asked, your answer was tinged with suppressed irritation. At _him_,_ you _assured yourself, not at the question. But you crack a smile and say, "yeah! And after that they'll make me a Paragon!"  
He seems to not notice your ire and he rambles on about how she looks, and when your fists clench and you have to clamp your teeth shut, he doesn't notice that either.  
_3_  
The fourth time he asks, you're starting to mourn your situation.  
You're regretting telling him that Rica was your sister, you're regretting not asking for another partner when you had the chance, and you're _really_ regretting the day you learned just where that regret stemmed from.  
You stop walking and level him with a look.  
"No, Leske. Stop."  
But he is Leske, and he wouldn't be if he let it go there.  
So he teases you about the number of men coming to see your sister and how jealous you must be that you have none and even though you act offended and smack his arm…  
It helps.  
_4_  
At some point after that, he began to ask more often, not once every few months, but every few weeks, and then more.  
"No, Leske. And stop asking. I mean it."  
_5_  
"Do you think—"  
"No."  
_6_  
The next time he asks, the frustration is clear in your voice as you say, "**no**, Leske. It'll never happen, and even if there might have been some slim chance that it would, Rica is a _noble hunter_, you know that, and if you don't, you would if you had ever bothered to _ask her yourself_."  
You don't talk again until you're home.  
_7_  
It's some time before things ever regain a semblance of normal.  
You managed to avoid talking to him for three days after.  
After that, your conversations are limited to short comments.

This mission seemed to be no exception, getting the information before heading out in silence.  
So now is a surprise.

"[Y/n]…" he starts.  
You try to look at his eyes, but he's got his arms folded behind his head and his gaze is directed towards the ceiling.  
"Do you think that me and—"  
"Leske, no," you warn, but he's undeterred and says only, "no, that's not it."  
He's still not looking at you.

"There's this girl. No, not Rica. She's better." You scoff, and you can see the grin on his face.  
"Yeah, I know. But she is."  
He starts again. "So this girl, I've known her a real long time… and I can't figure out what to do."  
And this feels more like it used to, so you swallow and say, "if you've figured it out yourself, the next step should be obvious. You've got to say something."  
"The problem is I never know how to act around her."  
You blink, because the dusters don't care, so maybe…  
"Tell me you didn't fall for some pampered noble." Some day you were going to find out how you could act so well when your heart beat so fast in your ears.  
"Nah, she's a duster."  
You have to stop your brain from going into overdrive trying to figure out who.

"So then act how you always do, she shouldn't care. Just tell her."  
He gives a soft laugh, "I wish it were that easy. She's different. And I should know how to talk to her, know how to tell her… but I don't. And I keep screwing up."

"Leske…" your voice is pained, but he shakes his head.  
"Hear me out."

There's a moment before you speak again.

"All I can say then is just ask her, if she's… interested." Then, imagining the probable outcome of that, you smile and add, "but try doing it with tact."

He's stopped walking now and he's standing in front of you.

"Leske? What are you…?"

He gives you a half-grin. "What you said. So, [Y/N]… have you ever thought that maybe me and you could…?"  
You swear your heart stops. "—what?"  
"You… and me."  
Despite what he's been saying, he doesn't look nervous, though his voice is without it's usual tone of arrogance.  
"Are you—saying—"

And then you're kissing him and trying to speak in between ("by—the—stone—why—didn't—you—say—any—thing?" "Didn't—know—what it was. Then—wasn't sure—if you did-too.") and when he finally pulls away, not quite as out-of-breath as you, he asks "is that a yes?"

You kiss him again.

A/N: Do you know how angsty I was going to make this? **So** angsty. You wouldn't even believe the amount of angst I was going to put in this.  
…but I didn't, so the ending is weaker but definitely happier. Hope that's a fair trade.  
I've already got an idea for another one with Anders, but if you have any requests or ideas…  
Also: why do I always have kisses? They're like my standard ending when I'm having trouble.


End file.
